


Storms are Named After People

by Commandant



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Animal Death, Blood, more warning tags to come probably, not technically AU, self indulgent teenager Felix
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-19
Updated: 2015-03-19
Packaged: 2018-03-18 14:14:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3572636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Commandant/pseuds/Commandant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Felix discovers the best ways to have fun when you're a restless teenager in nowhere suburbia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Storms are Named After People

**Author's Note:**

> This is just going to be a series of vaguely connected stories from my headcanon version of Felix's young adulthood. Expect wanton acts of violence and general hedonism. 
> 
> ALSO, Here Felix has both a Korean given name and an English one, the Korean name he only uses with his relatives.

                Felix laid sprawled out on his bed as he stared absently at the conversation on his phone, one his cousin had put on hold with a message of “I’m going to bed, see you tomorrow at school?” an hour ago that Felix hadn’t bothered to answer. For his part, he didn’t think he could sleep even if he wanted to. Not because of nerves about his first day of high school tomorrow. Not because his mattress was old, lumpy, and vaguely uncomfortable. Not even because of the thick humid heat of late August in their house with its broken A/C unit.

                No, the only thing keeping him awake was the fact that the dog next door wouldn’t stop fucking barking. It was an old bulldog with a surly temperament, and at that moment Felix could not think of a single living thing on this godforsaken planet that he hated more than this dog.

                “One of these days I’m going to gut that overgrown rat, I swear,” he muttered angrily to himself as he rolled over in bed, pulling a pillow down over his ears. It really didn’t do much to mask the sound, and he glared dourly across his small bedroom. He saw half of a t-shirt sticking out of a drawer and the corner of one of his pin-up posters had peeled off the wall in the wet heat. As if in direct defiance to Felix’s mood, the poster finally fell to the floor with a soft crinkle and thunk before collapsing in a defeated manner on the carpet. “Fuck you too, your tits aren’t even that big,” he cursed at the bikini model now obscured from view.

                His gaze rolled away to the milk crate next to his bed, his replacement for a proper bedside table. He’d spray painted it black in the garage one day, along with, unintentionally, his “nice” jeans as his mother had said. She’d been upset with him but honestly he liked them better this way. He’d take ruined over boring any day.

The soft blue light given off by his phone screen illuminated the items haphazardly piled on top of the crate, and he locked eyes with one of them for a long moment.

                “One of these days…” he repeated in a distracted manner as his hands found familiar purchase on the hunting knife in its worn leather sheath. It had been a gift from his uncle for his 13th birthday two years ago. One of these days, people always say. Why not today?

 

                He cursed quietly as his hand slipped and let the side door violently swing closed behind him with a metallic clang. He froze for a few seconds before reminding himself that there’s no way he could wake up his parents. Not with that stupid dog still barking. To be sure, he waited a few seconds for sounds of stirring, tugging at a loose thread on his sweatpants. Bark bark bark. Didn’t that animal know any other words?

                Hopping the fence was easy, he’d done it a hundred times before for a variety of reasons of varying degrees of illicitness. The only resident of the small house was a quiet old lady who was practically out of her head with dementia. Felix had stolen drugs from her medicine cabinet once while she was still in the house without getting caught. At the moment, the dog had directed its barking squarely at him, an intruder in the yard. But well, it had already been barking incessantly anyway.

                “You ever heard of the boy who cried wolf, you stupid dog?” Felix clucked as he darted forward to grab the chain the dog was tied to. Then it was simply a matter of reeling the animal in and wrestling it to the ground.

                For as old as it was, it put up more resistance than Felix was expecting, and just when he thought he’d got it pinned down did the teeth sink into his hand. He let out a wordless curse that turned into a string of expletives under his breath as he struggled to pry to the old bulldog’s jaw off of him. Still swearing, he clamped his bleeding hand down on the dog’s muzzle the moment it was free and picked up his knife from where it had fallen on the damp grass in the struggle. He savored the way the moonlight glinted off the cool metal for a moment but didn’t take too long and risk the dog struggling free of his grasp. It let out a horrible high pitched noise despite his grasp on the snout as he sunk the knife into its belly.

 

                Just a minute later he stood in the yard with blood messily streaked down his shirt and sweatpants, savoring the quiet. Only the sound of crickets chirping disrupted the stillness. It was a simulated sound, of course. There weren’t any bugs like that on this planet. He glanced down at his ruined clothes as he wiped his hands on his shirt. He didn’t really care. He’d never much liked these clothes anyway. He’d burn them in the woods behind the school building tomorrow, it’d be fine. He didn’t linger in the yard, climbing back over the fence and crossing the side yard as a profound sense of peace settled into the pit of his stomach.

                He couldn’t silence the startled yelp that escaped his lips when he opened the door to be met with his mother’s face on the other side. “Eomma! I-I was just—” he fumbled with his words as he tried to come up with a plausible excuse to why he was covered in blood in the middle of the night that didn’t wildly incriminate him.

                His mother grabbed his wrist with her small, firm hands, staring in stunned horror at the blood that was mostly not his own. Her whole body seemed to quiver as the creases lining her face deepened, and she looked up at his face. The concerned expression she showed him made him want to yank his hands away in disgust, but he didn’t. She spoke quietly, as if pleading forgiveness from some higher power, “Jae-yoon… what have you done?”

                Felix opened his mouth despite the fact that he hadn’t yet formulated a lie good enough to explain this away. It didn’t matter much, because the next minute the night sky was pierced by the high pitched scream of the old lady next door. Immediately Felix muscled past his mother before pulling the door closed behind them. Short for his age as he was, Felix was still taller and stronger than her. Not that he’d ever let someone being bigger than him stop him before. Still, his mother was fragile, ever the epitome of a delicate Asian housewife, and she collapsed in a chair at the kitchen table as if she might faint if made to stand a moment longer.

                “I couldn’t sleep,” Felix explained, deviating from his usual habits when speaking to his parents by telling the truth, “it wouldn’t stop barking.” His tone was impassive and he assumed the look on his face was as well. The moon glinting in through the window cast deep shadows on everything and made his mother look even older than she already was. He didn’t look at her long, instead opting to glance around the room aimlessly. “Appa’s still asleep?” he asked, noting that the light in his parents room was still off. He didn’t really need or expect an answer, his father worked late, he was surely out cold from exhaustion by this time of night. That’s good. If it was just his _eomma_ , he knew he could get out of this mostly unscathed.

                “Jae-yoon,” his mother repeated his name weakly, still searching for an explanation. He wasn’t sure why. She seemed barely able to handle the situation without knowing the unsavory details. He’d grown used to holding back his words to protect her sensibilities, but…

                He whipped his head around to look squarely at her, “I killed the dog. Cut it open and let the insides spill out. Is that what you wanted to hear?” He knew it wasn’t, with the way she flinched away from the words like she was recoiling from touching a hot stove. He knew what she _had_ wanted: some sweet lie to put her worries to rest, one that she already knew her son could easily weave out of thin air. But just then Felix was too tired to come up with one. She turned her head and he could tell from the way the moonlight shined on her cheeks that she was crying. It was so ridiculous that he thought he might vomit at the sheer sentimentality. He rolled his eyes in the dark as his mother continued to look away. She gave no more response to his words and he decided he’d had enough.

                “Are you going to tell appa?” Felix asked directly as he let the sharp edge of a threat slip into his voice. His mother seemed startled out of whatever thoughts she was dwelling on, but slowly shook her head. That was all he needed. “I’m going to bed, then,” he said as he turned away to head upstairs. He felt his mother’s hand on him again when he’d already taken one step up, and his grip curled around the thin rickety banister. Fighting back the irritated noise that rose in his throat, he turned to look at her.

                “Promise me,” she said with more determination than he would ever have expected as her hold on his arm tightened. She opened her mouth to continue but the words seemed to die in her throat. Felix didn’t know what she wanted to say. He wasn’t sure she knew either.

                Felix forced a warm smile across his face, patting his mother gently before prying her hand off of him. “Don’t worry eomma; everything will be ok,” he assured in a calm voice as placed his hands reassuringly on her shoulders. He didn’t mean any of it, the words or the affectionate touches, but it placated the woman easily.

                She nodded with a small smile before shuffling off, back to bed he assumed. Felix didn’t wait to see before heading upstairs. He made it up to the small landing, and trudged into the bathroom, pulling the door shut behind him. Stripped completely naked, his bloody clothes fell forgotten to the floor and he didn’t pay them a second thought after that. He washed the blood off his bare skin in the sink before squinting at the bite marks on his hand, didn’t dare turn the shower or the light on at this time of night, Only the moonlight shone in the room as he rummaged around in the medicine cabinet looking for bandages and antiseptic for the four angry red puncture wounds the dog’s canine teeth had left in his skin. He flexed his hand experimentally to assure himself nothing important had been damaged inside his hand. It hurt like hell, but everything bent properly.

                He grimaced more at the sharp sting of the antiseptic than the depth of the wounds still oozing red. Sticking plastic bandages padded with liberal amounts of gauze over both sides of his hand, Felix stepped back to inspect his handiwork as the gears in his brain creaked into motion concocting the best story to explain his injury in school the next day. Certainly he could spin this in a way that worked massively to his favor. Everyone loves a bad boy, after all.

                He looked up from his hand to lock eyes with himself in the mirror and had to admire the way sweat clung to his brow like a model in an advertisement. His body was thin but taught and sculpted from three years of sporadic track and field attendance. Felix let his hands brush reverently down his sides, bare skin warm and soft beneath his fingers as he kept eyeing himself in the mirror. Everything else faded to the back of his mind, drowned out by how fucking _good_ he looked. Something was different, as if a foreign energy had settled into his body. Something about how he stood, how his limbs moved, how a vague lazy smile tugged at the corners of his eyes and mouth, it was new and energizing and just a bit dangerous.

                He had become a predator, and he fucking loved it.


End file.
